


Pigments

by quantumoddity



Series: Widomauk Modern AU [14]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Early Relationship, M/M, Teacher Molly, Trans Caleb Widogast, Trans Mollymauk Tealeaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: Caleb finds himself in Molly's workplace
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Series: Widomauk Modern AU [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1121760
Comments: 9
Kudos: 94





	Pigments

Caleb’s school had been a handful of rooms in the town hall building. He and the other children of the village had been roughly divided into two groups by age and taken by either the town’s only cleric, a dwarven priestess of Erathis who’d been sent to Blumenthal years ago to establish a strong faith amongst those people of the earth and had remained despite the local’s pleasant indifference, or the herbalist whenever she left the store with her nephew. Caleb would complete every task set for him within ten minutes and, instead, would be allowed to sit in the corner and read while the other children staggered their way through multiplication and verbs and basic Dwarvish. He read everything that could be found within the building, even staying in during playtime. The herbalist would share her tea with him and bring him scones when she could see that his parents were having a rough month. 

Even as everything between who Caleb was now and that small child with unruly red curls and hollow cheeks and big eyes, even as all of it cracked and broke and rotted away for a number of reasons, it wouldn’t take much to bring him back to that little room. The dust motes dancing through the sunlight slanding in through the windows and falling on the blackboard with lines and lines of loopy handwriting that was clearly made to draw intricate sketches of plants and write labels on bottles of strange green liquids. The taste of flour and sugar baked together on his tongue, heavy with cherries, nettle tea, the taste of reassurance that maybe his stomach wouldn’t ache so bad when he went to bed that night, that maybe his mother’s heart wouldn’t break quite so much when she saw him. The promise of new words, so many it felt like he could barely hold them all in his mind, but he’d still always want more. Feeling like maybe one day he would be somewhere that would appreciate him for everything he knew. 

It didn’t take much to send Caleb back there, to remind him of his days at school. Any little similarity would do it. But standing here, in an actual school, all he could think was how different it was from his own. 

Molly’s hand hadn’t left his own since they’d gotten into the taxi. Caleb thought that meant the date was going well. The thought gave him a happy warmth in the bottom of his stomach, though he was very aware of his own inexperience. He wouldn’t really know if it was going well one way or the other, he had next to no data to fall back on.

But there was something in the way Molly kept stealing glances at him, leaving Caleb to just catch the slightest edge of his glance, the way there would always be a smile on his face whenever it happened. Almost as if just the sight of Caleb still sat beside him was enough to make Molly smile.

The hallways were left by the wide windows to alternate strangely between pitch black and wonky squares of yellow streetlight. The only noises were their own footsteps and the muted rumble of cars and voices outside. Of course, at nearly midnight, there was absolutely no one in the school. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here so late?” Caleb finally asked, his voice reverberating off tiles in shadow that he couldn’t even see. 

Molly turned a little from where he was determinedly leading the way through the corridors and up the silent stairs, “Of course.” His hand, the one that wasn’t entwined with Caleb’s, reached into his shoulder bag and flashed a red lanyard with a faded, blurry picture of a far younger purple tiefling, “I’m staff. And you’re my guest.”

If he couldn’t see the staff badge for himself, Caleb wouldn’t have been able to believe that the loud, extravagant, naturally hedonistic singer he’d been dating for a month now was a teacher by day. The idea of Molly being an authority figure was like trying to imagine a fish climbing a tree or a shark swimming backwards. Something just wasn’t right about it. 

But there was his name on the door they were approaching, Mr Tealeaf, neatly typed out in large, rounded letters surrounded by childish cartoons of paint brushes and easels, clearly added by whoever had made the sign in an attempt to make it brighter. But the stickers that had been placed around it with a heavy, generous hand and the graffiti style doodles done in loud, colourful marker were undoubtedly the work of Molly himself. 

“Also I leave stuff in my classroom all the time,” Molly added, a little bashfully, “They gave me a key after the one time they found me trying to climb through the window. Someone called the police.”

Caleb had to smile at the mental image, “What did you forget that time?”

Molly suddenly seemed very interested in his keys as he put them in the door, “Uh, my phone.”

Caleb’s smile grew, “The same thing we’re having to come back here to get right this moment?”

Molly turned and poked him in the chest with a finger tipped by a long, deep red nail, playfully challenging, “What’s your point, Widogast?”

“Nothing at all,” Caleb showed his palms, his grin not fading at all. 

Molly flicked his tail at him and disappeared into the classroom, “I wouldn’t bother but it’s got the cinema tickets on my email…” 

Caleb nodded along, more absorbed in looking around. Even with the light off, the small space was a riot of muted colour, there wasn’t an inch of the walls that wasn’t covered in an art piece of some description. One was groaning under what looked like three classes worth of crookedly sewn embroidered patches, one dripped with just as many watercolours, one had bunting haphazardly strung up that boughed under a store’s worth of bead bracelets and paper flower garlands. Even things that couldn’t be pinned up found their place; the long banks of sinks that circled the room like a moat had sculptures standing sentinel, frozen in the act of listing slightly to the left or right.

Where there wasn’t displays of work there were boards on different artists and movements, one about Frida Kahlo backed by loud, patterned fabric, one about Van Gough set against a recreation of Starry Night done with twists of blue silk. The others were people Caleb had never heard of but he was sure he’d know everything he needed to after reading all of the carefully typed out squares of information.

Though the colour could only slightly be seen with the lack of light, Caleb could practically smell it. The scent of charcoal and pigment and fresh paper was on nearly everything, buoyed by strong coffee and sugary tea. Less pleasant was the slightest smell of stagnant water, probably left in paint trays and clinging to brushes, though it was mild enough that Caleb didn’t mind. 

Molly went straight to his desk while Caleb was still staring, digging around in drawers that looked like they were overflowing until he came up with his phone, “There you are, you bastard. Yasha said she was going to super glue it to my hand if I left it at work again, let’s hope she’s forgotten that...”

Caleb made a soft noise of affirmation, ninety nine percent of his attention still on the room around him. 

Molly gave a soft chuckle, “Do you like it? I know it weirds some people out, they can’t imagine me actually doing this as a job.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered over to Molly, managing to pull himself out of a sudden hyperfixation on L. S. Lowry. He allowed himself a long moment just to look at him, standing there in the half light. Though all they’d been planning to do was go to the pictures and get a few drinks afterwards, he was dressed as extravagantly as ever. Enough piercings to make his ears droop a little, a shirt made of nothing but glittering mesh patterned with stars over a tight vest and leather pants tucked into boots that went up to his knees. Not much on display but everything hinted at, his tattoos vibrant even in shadow. He looked as far away from a teacher as anyone could imagine.

But Caleb could see touches of him everywhere in the room they stood in. He saw him in the messiness of the desk but how he clearly knew where everything was regardless. He saw his guiding hand in every single work of art on the wall, he saw him in the gushing praise scribbled in red pen on the front of the pile of test papers near his computer. He saw him in the tin of biscuits right by his elbow, ready to be brought out at a moment’s notice for a child who was having a hard day or who’d achieved something after trying so hard.

Or a child who maybe hadn’t had any breakfast that day. 

Caleb felt his lower lip wobble dangerously for a moment but he quickly brought it under control, managing to smile, “I don’t think it’s weird. I can’t imagine a job more perfect for you.”

Molly beamed at that, some pride warming his eyes now as he gently touched a piece of paper lying on his desk, a pencil drawing done in bright colours that was clearly meant to be himself done by a child that had clearly just been introduced to Cubism. 

“Well,” he was even blushing a little, around the edges, “I do enjoy it. And that is about the nicest thing anyone’s said to me about my job.”

“Well, it’s true,” Caleb leaned against one of the tables, one hand awkwardly seizing his arm, though the smile on his face was undeniable, spreading across his face the more Molly kept looking at him like that. 

Molly twirled his tail between his fingers. Was Caleb thinking wishfully or did he always do that when he was feeling charmed? His eyes roved over his desk, looking like he was trying to decide whether something was a good idea or whether it would come off as dorky. 

“I...I have something for you,” he eventually grinned, eyes flickering up to Caleb, “Call it a prize for coming on this rescue mission with me.”

“Oh?” Caleb leaned forward slightly, hoping it might be a kiss.

Molly swept up, ringing slightly as he went with all his adornments, “My students were learning about mosaic and glass work? So we did a little jewellery making and seeing how I have to demo everything, I ended up with this…”

Caleb suddenly found something small and smooth in his hand. He looked to see a bracelet, a simple loop of black string with rounded, oblong beads in alternating sea green and vibrant blue. 

“They’ll really bring out the colours of your eyes,” Molly murmured hopefully, “They always remind me of the sea so I guess I must subconsciously have been...thinking of you? While I made it? I must have always meant to give you it, even before I realised it.” 

Caleb’s mouth opened, hoping words adequate to express just how much the gift meant to him would just come pouring out. Of course they didn’t, he was just left stammering until he stopped himself and just looked Molly in the eye as he slipped the bracelet over his skinny wrist. 

“I love it, Molly. Thank you.” 

Judging by Molly’s face, Caleb’s eyes must have said what his words couldn’t. That was when he got his kiss, sweet and gentle, coloured in moonlight. 

And the bracelet would stay on his wrist all night. And the many dates they’d have after their slightly delayed trip to the cinema. 

And the years they’d have together after that. 

**Author's Note:**

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